


Will You Stay or Will You Go?

by Nuinzilien



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gift Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 14:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuinzilien/pseuds/Nuinzilien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the War of the Ring, the elves of Lothlorien and Mirkwood search for Home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You Stay or Will You Go?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keiliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiliss/gifts).



> Huge thank you to Dark Dreamer for listening to me wail about stubborn muses, and to Artemis for the read-through. Thank you, ladies!
> 
> This didn't turn out quite as I had thought it would, but pleasantly so. I hope you like it!

“So this is what Greenwood’s crown prince does when he is not saving us from blissful ignorance. It seems our woodland cousins have strange ways.”

“Says the elf who spent more than half of his growing in Imladris, mucking out horse stalls.” Legolas placed another nail and swung his hammer. “The air in this room is hot enough without you adding to it, Haldir. Go plague another, or make yourself useful and hand me that level.” He gestured. “And the wooden board beside it.”

“What are you making, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

Legolas gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to rise to his bait. It would accomplish nothing. “Chicken coops. Lady Eowyn requested them.” He pounded another nail into place. “The wooden board, please.”

“Chicken coops?” The Marchwarden asked, aghast. “There are untrained children trying to wield weapons like grown men, and you are in here building chicken coops? I should think training those youths to hit what they aim for would be much more suited to someone of your…station?”

Haldir had a point. In the wake of Sauron’s fall, the skilled warriors of Rohan and Gondor had been reduced to old men with farm tools and terrified boys just out of the nursery. Legolas eyed his work. He *would* be better off training the next generation of archers not to shoot their own feet. But… ”Are you going to be the one to tell the pregnant shieldmaiden that she cannot have her chicken coop because it is not royal enough?”

There was a long pause, then “…Where did you say the level was?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The coops were met with great appreciation from Lady Eowyn, thanks in no small part to Haldir. He had turned out to be much better with a hammer and nail than Legolas had ever thought possible. “Do you think our telain sprouted from the trees?” Haldir had scoffed before taking pity on the poor prince’s abused fingers later that evening. “Lord Celeborn is of the belief that idle hands lead to idle minds, so when we are not guarding the borders or running errands, we are performing repairs to storm-damaged areas or tending crops.”

Legolas gave him a doubtful look. “Somehow, I cannot imagine you wielding rake and hoe.”

Haldir snorted. “Aye, you would be right about that.” He rubbed mint balm into the younger elf’s chafed fingertips. “I tried once.”

“And?”

“And it is a very good thing our lord is wise and does not tend to repeat mistakes.”

Legolas smiled and flexed his fingers. “A very effective balm. I can barely feel the ache anymore. To be honest, I cannot imagine why I felt it at all. I am well past the point where a few hours of practice should be this painful.”

Haldir began to pack away the balm and cloths. “Aye, you are. But a morning spent swinging a hammer and building the most terrifyingly flimsy chicken coops in the history of fowl housing followed by those ‘few’ hours of practice… THAT you have not gotten beyond. But fear not. No one knows that secret but me, young Prince.”

Legolas gave him a look. “You are not that much older than I am, Haldir.”

The Marchwarden patted him on the cheek. “Old enough to know better than to take no break between carpentry and archery. I will be back at dawn with oil.”

“Oil? Why?”

“Because come morning, you will be lucky to be able to rise from your bed. Goodnight and rest well.” He let himself out, the door clicking shut behind him.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

 

Haldir was right, curse his wretched soul to the bowels of Barad Dur. Just before dawn, a mild twinge had been Legolas’ only warning before the muscles in his back began to spasm. For nearly an hour he laid in his bed, trying to work up the motivation to rise.  
It was the tap on his door that finally got Legolas to his feet with a choked off moan. He shuffled over to the door and opened it.

Haldir’s brow arched. “Impressive. Most would not be standing, much less able to walk and open doors.”

Legolas sniffed. “Aye, well, wood elves are made of stronger stock than our …softer cousins.”

Haldir chuckled and gave him a friendly thwack on the back, sending the younger elf to his knees. “You have grit, Prince, I will give you that.” He pulled Legolas to his feet and helped him back to the bed, politely ignoring the many creative insults and aspersions cast upon his parentage.

Once Legolas was settled back in his bed, Haldir pulled out a flask of oil. “This is going to hurt, Legolas.”

The younger prince moaned something unintelligible into the pillow.

“Such crude language. You have clearly spent too long with that dwarf friend of yours.” He began by applying the oil in long, smooth strokes down his back, smiling when it warmed, calming peppermint and tea scenting the air. He hummed nothing in particular, his fingers working on this knot and that spasm.

At a soft mumble from the pillow, he leaned in. “What was that?”

“I said,” Legolas slurred. “How long are you staying?” He groaned as a particularly vicious knot gave way.

“Until my work here is done and my Lord requires my presence.” He leaned in. “Until then, young Prince, I am yours.”

Legolas could only hope his shiver was mistaken for released tension.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The next several months followed in much the same vein. Legolas worked from sunrise to well past sunset, his time spent acting as a liaison between Gondor and the newly named Eryn Lasgalen, and trying to build a new home in Ithilien for the hopeful elves wanting to settle there. It was hard, exhausting work, but Legolas went to bed each night feeling as though he were accomplishing more than just training soldiers to fight or smoothing over ruffled feathers. He was ensuring that the brave elves living in Ithilien would have roofs of their heads, food in their bellies, and strong arms to keep them safe.

He could not imagine accomplishing so much without Haldir. The Marchwarden had proven himself to have a head for not only scheduling guard rotations and training Ithilien’s defenses, but also for the more banal city building tasks like deciding where to dig latrines and which trade routes would serve them best. Legolas had come to rely on Haldir’s counsel, and would often spend his evenings seated beside him discussing the day’s activities or the goings on within the budding community.

“How is it you know so much about this?”

Haldir smiled and finished sharpening a hunting blade. “I was a very nosy elfling. It is easy to be unseen by most in Caras Galadhon and Imladris, so I often watched others perform their duties. And my Adar was one of the Lord and Lady’s advisors. He would speak of such things when he returned home. If it helps, he was often as worn as you are when he found his bed.”

“Aye, it does.” Legolas fletched another arrow, eyeing his work critically. “I am beginning to think YOU should be the one ruling here, my friend, not me.”

Haldir shook his head. “Nay, Legolas, you are the right one to lead us. The elves here respect you and already follow your lead. King Elessar and Prince Faramir know and trust you.” He reached out, placing his hand on Legolas’ shoulder and squeezing gently. “THIS is what you were born to do.” He turned back to his task, testing the blade’s edge.

“Us?”

“Hmm?” The elder elf looked up.

Legolas leaned in, placing his arrow aside. “Just a moment ago, you said I was the right one to lead us. Us, as in yourself included. Dare I take this to mean you are staying?”

Haldir looked uncomfortable for a moment. “If you will have me. I have requested and been granted permission by Lord Celeborn to remain here in whatever capacity you need me.”

Legolas studied the elf who grew dearer to him by the day. “What if that means sending you out to protect our borders as you do for Lothlorien?”

“Then to the borders I will go.”

“Haldir?”

“Aye?”

There was a long pause. “And what if that means I need you here as my most treasured friend, counseling me in all things?”

Haldir studied him, smiled, and picked up the next blade to sharpen. “Then I will never leave your side, my Prince. As I said months ago, Legolas, I am yours.”

Legolas beamed. “Good.” He reached for another arrow. “So I meant to ask your opinion about...”

 

~~Fin~~


End file.
